Where The Light Lies
by monkey-in-hell
Summary: Post S3:E8 and a look inside and outside TRA...
1. Chapter 1

A/N Yeah. I thought I was done with all of this but... [shrugs]

Where The Light Lies

Part One

The Railway Arms had always been his pub. It hadn't been the establishment in which he'd supped his first pint - that honour belonged to a building that no longer existed, in a street that no longer bore the same name - but The Railway Arms was the pub he'd chosen to make his regular; though perhaps it was wiser, when all things were considered, to think that it just might have chosen him instead. Regardless of its origins, and for the longest time, whenever he'd stepped through the doors of The Railway Arms - with his team in tow or by himself; after a successful collar or a particularly shitty day - it had always felt as though he'd found his way home. There was - nearly - always decent beer on tap, good memories to be found in every nook and cranny, and a barman who was armed only with a welcoming smile, and a slightly dodgy accent, for his customers. When he'd first figured out exactly where he was and what other, special, service The Railway Arms offered alongside its ale, the thought of ending his days in the pub had been a comforting one. When such details had slipped his memory, washed away with booze and friendship and loss, and even when he'd moved a couple of hundred miles away, The Railway Arms had still remained the pub he'd measured all others against - and had usually found them wanting. But by the time he'd finally tired of the world outside the doors of The Railway Arms and had taken the short walk into the pub that he'd set so many souls on before him, it hadn't felt much like home at all.

For the most part it was exactly as he'd expected it to be; the beer, the familiar faces, the happy memories, and, of course, Nelson himself had all been present and correct but there'd been one thing, one person, missing the day he'd walked into the pub. It was someone that his younger self, looking at The Railway Arms on a wet night in Manchester in an entirely new light and silently planning a future that involved a long and glorious career before ever walking across the threshold that had just opened up before him, would never have considered; a smart, gorgeous woman who had been both his partner and his friend, and had been more than a match for him in so many ways. The notion that such a woman could possibly exist just hadn't been in his vocabulary and even if such an idea had crossed his mind back then he would have immediately dismissed the notion as ridiculous. Older, though maybe not so much wiser, Alex Drake was all that crossed his mind these days which was unfortunate because she no longer crossed his path - in this pub or anywhere else.

"She looked as miserable as you do now the day she walked in here," Nelson offered abruptly from across the bar, having practically ignored the man sat opposite up till this point, other than to pull him a pint - a transaction that required few words between a publican and one of his regular customers. He'd picked up a freshly rinsed glass as he'd begun to speak and now he proceeded to slowly dry it off, his gaze on Gene all the while.

Gene bristled at the comment but managed to keep his mouth firmly shut; as true as he knew the statement to be, he was sure it hadn't been intended as the accusation it felt like and a surreptitious glance at the man on the other side of the bar seemed to confirm as much. The other man however, with his hands otherwise engaged but his eyes watching and waiting, was obviously expecting some kind of response to the statement. Like all good barmen, Nelson was keen to offer a listening ear and words of advice and though Gene might have been in need of the latter he wasn't too keen on submitting to the former in exchange. Talking about her, and with Nelson of all people, wasn't something he relished; the man was far too perceptive at times, especially where personal matters were involved, and there'd be no point in pretending that he didn't care about Alex or the fact that she was no longer around. Nelson would see right through him though, to be fair, he hadn't exactly won anybody else over in that respect. The most he'd achieved was an almost resounding silence on the matter. Not everyone had complied though; there had been a few brave - or possibly stupid - souls who'd dared to mention Alex in his presence.

Shaz had been the first, though that was most likely because, at that point, she was the only person who'd known exactly what Alex's intentions were. About an hour or so after his arrival here, and in the midst of a party to 'celebrate' such a momentous event as his entry to The Railway Arms, Shaz'd lured him to a quiet corner of the busy pub and told him that Alex wouldn't be making an appearance that night - or any other night for that matter. Until that moment he'd convinced himself that Alex was simply making him sweat a little before she made one of her stunning entrances; the way she'd always done when they'd both been outside the doors of The Railway Arms; the way she'd always done, after he'd let her go, in his dreams. In retrospect, maybe her absence shouldn't have come as such a surprise; it wasn't as if he'd asked Alex to wait for him or had even promised her that one day he would walk through the doors of The Railway Arms with only her on his mind. And it wasn't as if she'd told him that she would sit in the pub and wait for him either; maybe he should have realised that her sad 'Goodbye' the night they had parted had meant just that. But her rejection had hurt, had felt as though she'd swung that left hook of hers at him over and over again.

Almost as painful, for his pride at least, had been the realisation that Shaz had read him like an open book; the compassion had swum in her eyes as she'd babbled on, trying to offer him words of comfort and hope that he suspected she didn't, like himself, really believe. Feeling battered and bruised, though thankfully no longer showing any outward signs of such a beating, he'd simply walked away from the young woman, making his way towards the bar instead where the rest of the night had passed in a blur of drink after stupefying drink, a fruitless attempt to fill the empty hole that had taken up residence inside his chest.

Finding solace in the bottom of a glass had filled in the next couple of nights too, until Ray had, surprisingly but with very little subtlety, decided to offer his thoughts on the subject of Alex Drake. Perhaps Chris had spilt the beans because Gene was sure that whilst Shaz would remain unswervingly loyal to Alex, she wouldn't have been able to resist telling her bloke everything. Or maybe Carling had just put two and two together and come up with the right answer; sitting miserably in the saloon bar, knocking back pint after pint and most offers of company whilst he tried to forget that the only person he really wanted there with him was never going to show, he hadn't quite been the Guv that everyone remembered. And Ray always did have a knack of surprising him every now and then. Either way, Ray's advice had been, quite simply, to 'get over her', mostly by shagging every available woman in the pub. Gene had been angry enough - at Alex for not being here, for making him feel so damn much - to go along with the suggestion. However, when last orders had been called, and an attractive, attentive and more than willing woman had been hanging off one arm and his every word, he hadn't been able to go through with it.

He'd made the mistake of trying to find some comfort in the arms of another woman, when all he'd really wanted was Alex, once before and, as satisfying as it had been for a short while, the dalliance had eventually left him feeling even emptier, completely obliterating any pleasure he'd gained in the process. And it didn't matter that she wanted nothing more to do with him; Alex was still the only woman he wanted and no-one else would ever be able to replace her. So he'd left the pub alone, just as he had always done when they'd both been on the other side of The Railway Arms.

By the time Sam and Annie decided to poke their collective nose into his business a couple of weeks had passed by, most of which had been spent in an alcoholic haze in his, perhaps not so, beloved Railway Arms. Just like Shaz, they'd been sympathetic but also intent on convincing him that getting drunk every night wasn't going to achieve anything. He hadn't been convinced by their argument but - and perhaps it had just been the sight of the two of them together, beating time and death to find each other and a happiness that he seemed to have no hope of achieving - he had reconsidered his situation. Well, Alex's situation really. It occurred to him that perhaps she had distanced herself from him not because she didn't love him but precisely because she did and when he'd told her to go he might as well have told her that he wasn't interested; that slight pause in Alex's movements before she'd opened the door to The Railway Arms hadn't been to collect her thoughts on what lay ahead or to summon the courage to walk into the last great unknown but to find the strength to walk away, with her head held high, from the man who'd just told her that she'd only get in his way if she stayed. He'd decided there and then that he needed to talk to Alex, tell her that he should never have let her go, and then kiss her the way he'd wanted to that night instead of letting the restraint that had always guided him where she was concerned rule him one last time. And then maybe he could have her in his life again. After all, she'd forgiven him far greater sins in the past.

Just the thought of putting things right between them had felt like a new lease of life - exactly how he suspected stepping through the doors of the pub should have felt - but it hadn't lasted very long. When he'd tried to track Alex down he'd discovered that things weren't quite the same on this side of the pub doors. She was out there, somewhere, in the vast expanse that existed here, but he didn't know exactly where; places, like The Railway Arms itself, were just there, a connection waiting to be made but Alex had no ties to this pub and he'd severed his with her the night he'd sent her in here. There was no yellow brick road that would lead him to her; there was no homing beacon to guide his way. But as he'd later discovered, thanks to Chris when he'd tried to wheedle Alex's location from the younger man, even if he'd known where she was he still wouldn't have been able to find her. Alex's idea of heaven didn't involve him and it didn't matter one bit that he wanted to centre his around her: she was lost to him. That was the way of this world.

"You know why, don't you?" Nelson interjected again, unperturbed by his only customer's silence.

Silently, Gene took a large gulp from his glass, contemplating the reasoning that had led him here. Nelson had probably been quietly anticipating such a visit, for him to be at his absolute lowest and with nowhere else to turn, from the moment he had finally walked through the doors of The Railway Arms. And he was in no doubt that the other man already knew the answer to that question - he just wanted to hear Gene say it. His gut reaction was to say nothing, finish his pint and then leave but he was at his absolute end and at the end there was always The Railway Arms. And he had come in here willingly, in the middle of the afternoon when the pub was deader than all of its regulars combined, and alone, hoping for just this sort of conversation to occur. He couldn't back out now. He glanced at Nelson once more and found the exact same question repeated across his features.

"Because she had a daughter she wanted to get home to," he said quietly, letting thoughts of the child he'd once accused Alex of neglecting weigh uncomfortably on him. She'd only just come to understand that the longed for reunion with her child would never happen when he'd told her to leave a world that, thanks in part to his selective memory and a desire to keep her in his life, had become her second home during her extended stay. He didn't care that she'd never truly believed in the world outside these walls in the same way that he had done, the truth must have still hit her for six; his own life changing revelations, previously buried as deeply in his mind as his body had been in the ground, had taken far longer than a few cursory minutes to digest never mind accept. Yet all he'd done that night was offer her a few words that, even now, he could only hope were true; if her daughter was anything like Alex then he suspected that she'd pull through but there were no certainties in life. After everything Alex had done for him it had been a poor response and one he regretted as much as letting her go. It really was no wonder she wanted so little to do with him now. He placed his glass back down but held onto it like a life-line, ignoring Nelson's gaze once more because he knew, even without looking, that the other man wasn't convinced with his reply. He wasn't himself; it was just much easier to think that the separation from her daughter was responsible for her distress that night because it took the blame away from himself.

"No. Well, yes - there was that too," Nelson wavered, placing the freshly dried glass behind the counter and the towel over his shoulder. "If life - or death - were a little fairer she would have gone home to Molly but that was never an option for Alex. And deep down she knew that. Just as you know why she really walked in here in tears. It's the same reason why she's still unhappy now. She didn't want to leave you."

Gene stilled, the hand that was holding onto his pint gripping it harder. Hearing someone else say what he'd always known to be true hurt but not as much as the news that she was still unhappy; he could almost - almost - accept not being in her life if it was what she really wanted, if it made her happy. He could endure his own fate - a routine of drink-sleep-repeat that was now so ingrained he suspected it would see out his days here; if there even was an end to all of this - but only in the knowledge that she, at least, was content in this world. But it shouldn't be like this. This shouldn't happen to anyone he brought here, least of all her. "What was I supposed to do? You'd already invited her in," he said accusingly, raising his eyes to stare at Nelson. He regretted his tone, if not the words, almost immediately, even before the other man's mouth fell into a frown.

"I know," Nelson conceded with a small sigh. "There were some mistakes made that night."

A flicker of anger sparked into life at the admission that Nelson had got it wrong; if there'd been no invitation extended to Alex that night then he might not have made what he considered to be, despite his Coronation Day disaster, the biggest mistake of his life. He wouldn't have told Alex that he was better off without her - words that had simply been an attempt to avoid admitting his feelings for her rather than the truth; she wouldn't have left, tears in her eyes and pain etched on her face; and she wouldn't be unhappy in the only place that you weren't supposed to be. An accusation almost made it to his lips but it died as quickly as he himself had done all those years ago because Nelson had also got it right: more than one mistake had been made that night. It might have caused a few ripples but that invite to step inside The Railway Arms could have been ago he'd turned down a similar offer in order to remain out there and Alex could have done the same; she'd practically begged him to let her stay anyway. But he'd just told her to go.

At the time he'd convinced himself that sending her into The Railway Arms was the only way to keep her safe; Keats had come so close to claiming her - claiming them all - and with his own awareness of that world replete once more it had put the few times he'd had to step in and save Alex, and the one time he'd put her at risk himself, into fresh perspective. Being without her for a short while, though not exactly desirable, had been more palatable than taking a risk on losing her forever. It almost sounded chivalrous but only if he ignored the fact that a part of him, the nineteen year old who'd burst unarmed and without backup into an unknown situation and got himself killed part, had been relieved that he had to let her go. The thought of someone knowing so much about his past, even the one person who'd been prepared to help him pick up the pieces when his world had come crashing down despite that knowledge, had unsettled him as much as seeing Farringfield Green for the first time in decades had done and, just like that day in Lancashire with Alex, all he'd wanted to do was run away from a truth that threatened his status quo. Nelson had simply offered him an easy way out and he'd taken it.

He dropped his gaze to the bar once more, weighing up the true cost of that decision - and not for the first time. The conclusion was always the same; had he told Alex to stay chances were that not only would he still have her in his life now, he'd probably still be out there too because she just might have been right that night: maybe he had needed her. It wasn't that he'd made a complete balls-up of things without her - he was still the Manc Lion, after all - more that his, much shorter than anticipated, tenure after Alex's departure hadn't exactly been a triumph. A smothering blanket of changes had slowly wrapped itself around the Police Force and he'd struggled with his new confines. He wouldn't go so far to say that he had succumbed completely to Alex's influence when she'd been with him but he could admit that her words of encouragement, chastisement, cajolement and downright exasperation had seen him safely through some of the earlier changes but after she'd left no-one else had been willing to step into that role. Whilst some of her successors had been just as mouthy, determined and smart, they hadn't tried to change him or his behaviour. He suspected one or two of them would have been more than happy to see him fall by the wayside - an alcoholic, over the hill, dinosaur - but that was as much his own doing as theirs.

Mindful of the mistakes he'd made before he'd kept his new recruits at a distance; getting too close to them only made it harder to let them go - and he would always have to let them go. It had been easier to play the voice of authority at all times instead; if they fought against him then they were fighting against his world too and were therefore more likely to want to leave when the time came. But there was another downside to that approach. He'd once admitted to Alex - and he still blamed the booze for that indiscretion even now - that he sometimes felt lonely but that had paled into insignificance when she'd left. There was no denying that he'd missed her. He'd wasted a great deal of time wishing that she was still there, with her whiteboard and charts, her psycho bollocks and posh accent, and those ridiculously tight jeans that would fire him up in so many ways that he'd feel as though he could take on the whole world and come out on top. And it wasn't as if he could just forget about her, even if he'd wanted to; she was irrevocably linked with his own demise and he'd been determined not to lose sight of that - and who he was - ever again. Maybe if he'd held on to her as fiercely, his much younger Superintendent wouldn't have told him that the future of modern policing looked nothing like Gene Hunt and if he had, maybe Gene wouldn't have found himself agreeing with the smarmy bastard.

Nelson leant forward, resting both forearms on the wooden bar, trying to catch Gene's eyes. "It wasn't as straight forward as it seemed with Alex. It should have been the right time for her. She'd discovered the truth about her parents, her own fate and the true nature of the world out there. Along the way she'd helped so many people - it should have been enough. But it wasn't. Because no one had anticipated her falling in love with you. Nor you with her."

Gene met the other man's gaze sharply at that statement only to find that Nelson was almost daring him to deny it. He couldn't, of course, and Nelson wouldn't have believed him anyway; he loved Alex and had for quite some time. She was mouthy and posh and annoying but she was also sexy and smart and had the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. He had it bad for her. He couldn't even take offence at Nelson's insinuation that Alex's feelings were entirely unexpected, even by the powers that be; at times, some more recently than others, he had been so sure that, as much as he'd always wanted her, nothing would ever happen between them. It seemed now that he'd been right all along though that thought didn't make him feel better about his situation, nor did the confirmation that Alex had fallen in love with him too.

Turning his attention back towards his glass, he eyed it morosely before knocking back the last of the contents. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected to gain by coming to Nelson; the other man engineering a meeting with Alex would have been the best outcome but he'd have taken a reassurance that she was fine without him, or that everything - as imperfect as it was - was just as it should be. He might not have liked it but he might have been able to start accepting it. But this wasn't any of those things; in fact, he felt worse than he did before they'd started talking. He should never have come in here today; he should never have come in here at all; and he should never have let Alex go. There wasn't much he could do about the last two but the first was easily solved. "Yeah well, it doesn't matter now," he muttered as he pushed the empty glass towards the other man and stood, signalling the end of the conversation. He wasn't sure where he'd go but he didn't want to be in this pub any longer.

"It matters to me," Nelson said, causing his companion to cease his movements and refocus his gaze in his direction. "I can't have the two of you unhappy: it ruins the atmosphere. And it still matters to you, doesn't it."

He stared intently at Nelson, searching the other man's face. Until now he'd managed to admit very little but - and maybe it was because he had absolutely nothing else to lose, or perhaps it was the honesty in Nelson's eyes, or possibly the fact that it wasn't really a question at all - he felt compelled to respond. "More than anything else," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on the other man and quietly hoping that he'd been right to come here after all.

Nelson nodded, a wide knowing smile gracing his face. "In that case, Mr Hunt, you're barred."

"Eh?" Gene managed, utterly perplexed and slightly annoyed by the other man's words; he'd just opened up to Nelson and it seemed that all he could do was throw it back in his face. The only response he received from Nelson's slowly retreating form was the soft click of a light switch as he disappeared around the other end of the bar. More confusingly, that sound was followed by a darkness that coloured the entire pub, despite the early hour of the day. He remained still, and slightly mystified, in the pitch black as faint stars began to appear above him and the temperature plummeted.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Sorry about the wait for part two. There are some lines in this that are clearly not mine; I don't own them or the characters. Dammit.

Where The Light Lies

Part Two

The Railway Arms had never been her pub. It wasn't the place where, armed with someone else's driving licence and a generous amount of make-up, she'd imbibed her first half of cider, a guilty conscience and the fear of her Godfather somehow catching her in the act ensuring that she and her school friend had huddled in the corner like the criminals they'd felt like for much of the duration. It wasn't even the pub she'd had to pass by each night after work, where - if the evenings were dark enough to highlight the interior - she'd catch glimpses of colleagues, who'd still occasionally throw an invite her way even though she'd never accept, enjoying themselves whilst she headed home to her daughter. And it certainly wasn't Luigi's. When the consensus had been to end what had been, for all concerned, a traumatic day in the pub, the thought of spending her last night in Luigi's - the only place that she could truly call her local - with the rest of the team had seemed like the perfect way to conclude her time here. The cosy trattoria held so many memories for her; some bad, some good, some happy, some sad, and some that remained, at best, half-remembered even now but all of them capturing some aspect of her life in this world. Of course, at that point in the evening she'd still believed that she was going home; it was a belief that she'd clung on to even as Gene had guided them down an unfamiliar road and towards The Railway Arms.

Before tonight, she'd never even laid eyes on the pub though it wasn't, thanks to Sam Tyler's affectionate eloquence, altogether unfamiliar to her. But the moment she had set eyes on it, seemingly transported brick by brick all the way from Manchester, she'd known that this particular Railway Arms was much more than the back street pub that Sam had waxed so lyrically about. She'd seen enough during the last twenty-four hours - from the long buried grave of a man she'd originally assumed was nothing more than a construct to the appearance of stars where a ceiling, and the offices above that, usually existed - to put this particular piece of the puzzle into place. The harmless looking pub, with bright light pouring warmly from its frosted glass windows and the faint hum of its interior just about audible, represented a way out of this world - she just hadn't wanted to believe that it was to be her own point of departure. The pub held little association for her and even less appeal; in truth, it had always struck her as the kind of place she'd cross the road just to avoid. And it was Ray and Chris' pub, after all; their eyes had lit up accordingly at the sight of it. Refusing to even consider the possibility that she'd be seeing them any time soon, she'd said her goodbyes to Chris and Ray; and even when Shaz - who, as far as she knew, had never set foot in the pub before either - had joined the boys, the three of them leaving together, she'd still held onto the belief that their respective paths lay in different directions. But her wilful ignorance hadn't lasted much longer.

The cold air circled silently, easily penetrating her layers of clothing and she dug her hands further into her pockets, one of them wrapping itself around the small piece of metal she'd taken from Farringfield Green just the other day - though so much had happened since then that it felt like a week ago. But it was no use; her face felt frozen in place, her feet like blocks of ice and in between she felt numbed to the bone. 'In a coffin, six feet under' flitted across her mind but she ignored it; she might have accepted that she was dead but she wasn't ready to give up on life - on this particular life, anyway - just yet.

"Listen to me," she began slowly, raising her eyes from the cold ground that had stared back at her so blankly and towards the man whose simple nod just moments ago had informed her that her fight to get home was over. That bombshell really should have been her biggest concern; she would never see her daughter grow up and though Gene had claimed that Molly would be fine it wasn't enough to appease her. She'd endured the loss of her own parents - there was no guarantee that Molly's, often absent, father would pay any more attention to his daughter now that Alex wasn't there - and the thought of Molly having to go through the same experience wounded her deeply. Molly might be 'fine' but it wasn't what she'd wanted for her daughter. It should have had her on her knees, with tears and heartache pouring out of every cell in her body but, somewhere deep inside, she'd always feared, perhaps even known, that it would happen this way. The possibility that she might be dead had travelled with her throughout her journey; sometimes it had sat so quietly in the back of her mind that she'd managed to forget that it was even there but other times, usually when she'd come close to falling for some of the temptations this world offered, it would make itself known, refuelling her desire to be reunited with her daughter. But it had always been with her, slowly preparing her for this day. She suspected that there'd still be some fall-out to come, when she had time to begin to properly mourn the loss - of her own life and her daughter's future - but therein lay a problem: she was running out of time in this world and she wasn't sure that the next one would allow her such a luxury as grief or remorse or even culpability.

Gene stared quietly back at her but, for a moment or two, it felt as though he was looking right through her. When he did eventually focus his eyes on her she was thrown by the emotions that played across his usually impassive features; she'd expected kindness - because she knew he was more than capable of that - and resolve, a prelude to sending her into the pub, but she hadn't anticipated the surprise and confusion and, what she thought looked like, happiness. It was enough to make her pause, the rest of that sentence lingering in her mouth. When she'd realised that she wasn't going home it hadn't taken much longer to figure out that she wasn't staying in this world either; she'd been brought to the pub with the others by Gene for that sole purpose. Somehow, and she wasn't sure how, it had become his role in this world; as Ray had said before he'd left, Gene was and always would be the Guv. Despite everything they'd been through recently, and thanks in part to herself, that hadn't changed. She, however, had changed.

It was ironic, given how long and how fervently she'd wished to leave this place, that she now wanted - more than anything - to stay. Admittedly, she was now one option down but whilst returning to Molly had always been her priority, staying here in this world had worked its way up to a very close second over the years. As time had gone by, and her daughter had seemed further away than ever, the thought of continuing her alternative life here had always comforted her - if there was an afterlife then this was it for her. So the thought of navigating her way through this world with the knowledge of its true nature, and without the struggle to get home, couldn't be outshone by a one-way trip through the doors of The Railway Arms; out here, she'd be able to help others like her, people who found themselves trapped in a world that could be as dangerous as it was confusing - that had always been her forte, even if she'd never quite been able to help herself in that respect. But her own experiences in this world could only be of help to others - if she stayed here. Alas, much like her struggle to get home, she feared that desire alone would not be sufficient. She needed to convince Gene.

"I can stay here with you. You can't do this," she insisted but she wasn't sure if either statement was true or not. The others had left without so much as a murmur of discontent and, if Gene had told her the truth the other night, Sam had taken the time to fake his own death before going willingly - there had to be some sort of autonomy involved. Surely she could just walk away from him, and the pub, and go it alone if she really wanted to stay here. A part of her began to wonder what would happen if she actually refused to leave but another part of her, a part that she was trying desperately to ignore, knew that it would never happen that way; if Gene told her to go then she would. And it would have little to do with his assertion, made when she doubted he'd been anymore aware of the truth about this world than her, that she could only leave on his say-so.

In response, Gene's gaze strayed over her shoulder, towards The Railway Arms itself, where it lingered for a short while before travelling down to the ground behind him, where Keats still lay out cold. It was almost as if he was weighing up the two options - the pub and DCI Keats, good and evil - and whilst she should have been happy that he was at least considering her request to stay she wasn't. There could only be one outcome: he would insist that she'd be safer in there than out here. He'd be right, of course; it was a little unsettling to realise just how close she - and the others - had come to putting their lives, and much much more, in the wrong hands. But it seemed a little unfair, too; she'd lost count of the number of times she'd put herself in danger because she hadn't treated this world, and her life within it, with the respect it had deserved. She knew now that it wasn't all in her mind and that if she took a bullet to the head in this world, as she had done in the real one, the outcome would be exactly the same but it would have been useful to have known that from the beginning. On the plus side, now that she knew some of the secrets of this world she could act accordingly - if anything, she'd be safer here than she'd ever been before. Besides, the same dangers applied to Gene, too and he obviously had no intention of giving up this world so easily. Neither did she.

"You can't do this on your own. You need me, Gene," she said as Gene's gaze returned to her but, again, she wasn't sure if that was really true or not. Maybe she'd played her part in this world, had - unwittingly - helped Keats knock Gene down so she could drag him back onto his feet, a better man than before, and he no longer needed her. And she doubted that he'd be on his own for very long either. There'd be others stumbling into, and around, this world and Gene would be there for them just as he had been for her. The idea that she was just one in a line of many, to eventually be disposed of in favour of someone new - and possibly female - was difficult to accept and, if she was being honest with herself, that was really where her problem with leaving lay: it wasn't that The Railway Arms was her designated exit point from this world because whatever awaited her next would be the same regardless of the fascia it hid behind; it wasn't that she was dead because there was nothing she could do to change that; it wasn't that she could do more good out here because she suspected that she wasn't unique in that respect; and it wasn't even the, rather annoying, fact that Gene seemed to have the final say after all - though, in a way, it was exactly that. She wanted to stay here because of Gene; more than that, she wanted to stay because she loved him.

It struck her that this was probably the last chance she'd have to tell Gene how she felt but she knew that it was the only thing she wouldn't say at this point. It would mean risking her heart and previous experience warned her that it was too much to stake on one man; her ex-husband, the man she'd wanted to spend the rest of her life with and the father of her child, had walked out on her after only a few years of marriage - and despite her many pleas to the contrary. After the divorce she'd made a new set of vows - and with more solemnity than her marriage vows - to never let another man get close enough to hurt her so deeply again. With a young child and a demanding career it had been easy enough to keep any suitors - and there had been one or two - at a distance when she'd still been alive. Here, she'd had the fight to get home, the puzzle that surrounded this world and the, just as demanding though more enjoyable, career but she hadn't been able to keep Gene Hunt out of her thoughts or her heart. If she told him how she felt and he still told her, however gently, to leave she feared that the rejection would destroy her. But if she kept her feelings to herself, she'd be able to walk away with her pride intact and head held high - even if it was still with a broken heart. And when he told her to go she would do so willingly; if he didn't want her around then she might as well rest in peace in that bloody stupid pub - at least, by all accounts, she'd be happy in there.

"I can't…I can't go in there," she begged, aware of how desperate she sounded despite her intentions to act otherwise; everything she had left was hanging in the balance. Gene continued to stare quietly at her with those familiar, now almost indecipherable, blue orbs, leaving her both breathless and a little confused. He should have been letting her down by now, possibly with a small joke to try and ease the awkward goodbye, but the silence was unexpected. She let out a shaky exhalation as she awaited his response, the cold air quickly swallowing up what was likely to be one of her last breaths in this world but it was the strains of some Bowie number, the same one that had greeted the others as they'd walked into the pub, that finally broke the silence, indicating that the door to The Railway Arms was open once more. It could only be Nelson, most likely wondering where she was, and her heart, and her hopes, fell a little further down. Earlier, the barman had nodded at her in a way she'd initially misunderstood but now fully comprehended: Nelson hadn't been acknowledging her, he'd been expecting her. She kept her eyes on Gene, silently begging him not to send her in there but he seemed almost oblivious to Nelson's presence and when he did finally speak it wasn't at all what she'd been anticipating.

"I know. You wouldn't be happy in there," Gene agreed, slowly raising one hand to cup her cheek almost reverently. His touch - she wasn't sure when the obligatory leather gloves had been shed but she was pleased by their absence - was warm against her own frozen skin, as if he'd just stepped out into the cold air. "I wouldn't be happy out here. Not without you. And we can't have that, can we?"

Stunned and relieved by his reply, all she could manage in response was to whisper, "No." Of all the things she'd expected to hear from him that had been nowhere near the list, never mind the top of it. She also felt a little guilty for doubting him in the first place; of course he wouldn't let her go - this was the man who had held her so gently, and kissed her so tenderly, as they'd danced the other night. She meant more to him than just another soul passing through his kingdom but to know that he felt the same way about her as she did him was almost too much and a single tear, one of many she had been holding back ever since she'd realised she was supposed to leave, broke free, rolling slowly down her cheek; however, it was no longer composed of sadness and pain and regret but of sheer joy.

"Good," he murmured, the single word accompanied by a small smile as he brushed away her tear with his thumb and without comment. "Because who else is going to tell me that I'm wrong all the time."

His hand was still caressing her cheek, the heat warming her as much as his words and the twinkle in his eye that had accompanied them; the attempt to alleviate the gravity of the situation with a joke was the Gene she knew and loved - and it had come under circumstances she had only dreamed about. He hadn't actually said that he loved her but it'd been close enough; close enough to persuade her that those three words weren't as dangerous as they had seemed only moments ago. "Not all the time," she said softly rather than confessing all, though this was a truth that deserved to be spoken too. Yes, she had fought against his instinctive, and sometimes presumptuous, style of policing but he hadn't always been wrong, just as she hadn't always been right; tonight was a very good example of that. They weren't half bad together and maybe, now that some things were much clearer, they could be even better.

"There you go again," he said, raising his other hand to cradle her head in his palms, clearly - and she suspected deliberately - misunderstanding her. "Disagreeing with me."

She smiled for what felt like the first time in an age and his gaze dropped to her mouth, a smile still tugging at his own mouth. By the time his eyes met hers again she was already slipping her hands out of her pockets to reach out for him; she'd let this moment slip away from her too many times before, the most recent occasion only the previous night, to make the same mistake again. But his lips found hers before her fingers had even touched his coat, his hands gently holding her in place even though she had no intention of moving. Her eyes fell shut in response and she was met by stars; playing behind her eyelids, dancing across her lips and shooting low across her belly. By the time she did grab hold of him it was for support and not control as the kiss left her feeling light headed - a sensation that lingered when Gene slowly pulled away, ending the kiss but maintaining his hold on her. For a few moments she was content to keep her eyes shut, savouring the sensations of kissing him - of being kissed by him. When she did finally open her eyes again they were met by his, his face so close to her own that it wouldn't take much movement to resume kissing, and it hit her once more: Gene loved her.

In that moment she felt more at peace than she had for some time; it wasn't complete but it was close enough. Gene smiled briefly at her before letting his hands fall away from her face. Her own grip on his coat slackened as his gaze strayed over her shoulder, towards The Railway Arms once again, and she realised that she could still hear the faint hum of music. Nelson must have been stood there watching them all the while. Before she had time to worry about that, Gene nodded in the direction of the pub and, after a moment or two, the music dimmed to silence. A quick glance behind her confirmed that the door to the pub was now closed and, presumably, so was her invitation to join the party that still seemed to be in progress. When she turned back to face Gene he was smiling at her again. "I take it that means Nelson agrees with you too?"

Gene's hands found her hips this time and he tugged her just that bit, because there really wasn't much of a gap between them, closer towards him. "It means that you and I owe Nelson a very big drink," he replied, before kissing her again.


End file.
